The first thing you see are the eyes. At least you think they’re eyes, all you really see are reflected lights. Two of them, outside the window at night. But you didn’t get a good look, it was more like a flash out the corner of your own eyes. And when you move to get a better look, they’re gone. But you know there was something, so you freeze, and squint out the window.
A second later you see white, bright. You don’t know what it is either, but after the white everything goes black, and that’s the last thing you ever see.
Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Around 100 people participate, their stories and poems are brilliant; check them out here.
Photo Credit: Janet Webb